Turn to thy window in the silver hour
That day comes stepping down the hills of night,
Infolded as the leaves infold a flower
By all her rose-leaf robes of misty light.
Then, like a joy born out of blackest sorrow,
The miracle of morning seems to say,
"There is no night without its dear to-morrow,
No lonely dark that does not find the day."
This poem is in the public domain.
Virna Sheard (1862 - 1943) was a Canadian poet and novelist. She often used nature as a theme for her work.
...that day comes stepping down the hills of night...so regal an image I get from this. Also, Joy born out of blackest sorrow ...is so true. Posted 01/10/2019 11:19 AM
I now await the dawn. Posted 01/10/2019 08:31 AM
This one brought tears, Jayne. Wonderful choice for any of us who are struggling. Posted 01/10/2019 07:54 AM
How lovely.... Posted 01/10/2019 07:52 AM
Beautifully put! Posted 01/10/2019 07:44 AM
Joy born out of blackest sorrow....so lovely. Posted 01/10/2019 07:34 AM